Lesser Angels
by fieldagent85
Summary: After learning of Lionel’s affection for Martha, Genevieve Teague does everything in her power to manipulate Martha into persuading him to give her the crystal. As a result, Martha becomes unwittingly involved in an intricate web of espionage and deceit.
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

Following the morning rush, the Talon fell into its usual early afternoon lull. Martha Kent worked the counter while her only waitress took care of what few customers required service. Up until about one o'clock, the coffee shop had been populated by its frequent customers, all of whom Martha knew by name. A short while later, the Talon acted as runway for the chic style and high fashion heels of the now infamous Genevieve Teague. Martha looked up, startled, and felt dread build in her chest as Genevieve drew closer and closer to her.

Genevieve flashed her a winning smile as she reached the counter. "This place is extraordinary, Mrs. Kent. You've done wonders with it."

Martha pursed her lips and shrugged. "Thanks, but I only started working here earlier this year. Lana did most of the work."

"All the same."

"I assume you came to see Lana," Martha said, coldly. "She isn't here."

"No, well, I thought not, as it is one in the afternoon on a school day," Genevieve replied, with only a faint trace of sarcasm. "On the contrary, I came to see you."

Martha's eyes widened. "Me?"

"I was hoping perhaps I could steal a few moments of your time. Privately."

Caught off-guard, Martha hesitated and used one hand to cover the other and keep it from shaking anxiously. "Uh, I don't think so, I'm not sure now would be the best time."

Genevieve glanced around the nearly deserted little shop, then turned back to Martha with one eyebrow raised. "As swamped as you must be, I'm sure your little hired helper over there could hold down the fort for a short while."

Martha sighed, believing herself to be out of options. She shot her waitress a look, which clearly conveyed her instructions, and discarded her apron. "Follow me," she beckoned, leading Genevieve into her office in the back.

Closing the door behind her, Martha questioned, "What can I do for you, Mrs. Teague?"

Calm and unperturbed, Genevieve took a seat in front of Martha's desk and waited for her to sit down as well. Reluctantly, she walked behind her desk and sat compliantly. "First of all, I appreciate you taking the time to see me."

Far from charmed, Martha crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. "Let's have it."

"Precise, direct. I like that," Genevieve said, with a curt smile, almost ominously. "Well, Mrs. Kent, it has come to my attention that you and Lionel Luthor have developed quite a…special relationship over the years."

Martha frowned. "I don't know where you've been getting your intelligence, Mrs. Teague, but Lionel and I hardly have a relationship at all, let alone of the special variety."

"I apologize, allow me to rephrase," Genevieve amended. "It seems more likely that Mr. Luthor rather boldly has created for his enjoyment a special relationship between the two of you in his own twisted, overwrought mind. Does that strike you any better?"

Martha folded her arms across her chest and adjusted her expression into a decidedly intimidating death glare. "You'll have to explain to me exactly where this is going."

"I'm sorry if my approach is a bit ambiguous, Mrs. Kent, I don't meant to…beat around the bush, it's just the subject happens to be a rather a sensitive one." With that, Genevieve reached into her designer bag and pulled out sizeable photograph, then handed it to Martha, who observed it skeptically. After a moment, she glanced up at the mysterious stranger quizzically, silently requesting an explanation. "It's not paramount that you understand the value of the object, only that you recognize its value to _me_. And how supremely important it is that I retrieve it."

Martha looked at her squarely. "I don't see what difference it is to me, Mrs. Teague…"

"Genevieve."

"I don't see what difference it is to me, Genevieve. I don't know anything about it."

Genevieve smiled. "All the better. You see, Mrs. Kent, your task is not to retrieve the crystal yourself, but to persuade Lionel to bequeath it to me of his own volition."

Martha sat up straight, unsure she had heard correctly. "I'm sorry?"

"I shouldn't think it would be difficult," Genevieve continued. "What with the enormous influence you seem to have been able to exert over Lionel when you used to work under him."

"_For_ him," Martha quickly corrected her.

"Excuse me, yes, _for_ him. Am I right in noting that you were the one acting as his conscience during that time?"

Martha shook her head. "I only cleared the pathway and made it possible for his own conscience to be heard over the voices of his lesser angels. Call that influence if you will, but I was simply doing my job."

Genevieve leaned forward then, and Martha noticed a glistening determination in her eyes. "Martha, I need you to do this for me. You cannot imagine the scope of its importance."

Martha all but rolled her eyes. "I don't know what on earth makes you think I would be willing to do your bidding for you, especially where Lionel Luthor is concerned."

"I'm glad you asked," Genevieve replied, digging through her bag once more.

Martha furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"A little over two and a half years ago, my sources tell me, you were somehow able to overcome all of the odds against you and become pregnant, is that right?"

"I…" Martha stammered, her hand suddenly beginning to shake once more.

"A miraculous feat, considering your inability to conceive. Or shall I say, your husband's inability to conceive," Genevieve noted, eyebrows raised. "It must have been so difficult for you, keeping a secret like that from your beloved husband for so many years. I would just hate for something like that to be revealed…"

All of the color quickly drained from Martha's face as she registered the gravity of the threat she was now facing. Once she had fully grasped it, she began to grind her teeth, and in her lap, her fists clenched in anger.

"How _dare_ you."

"The choice is yours, Martha," Genevieve said, with an eery calm about her. "I applaud the decision, really, knowing how sensitive men can be about their…manhood, it was sure to absolutely devastate Jonathan were he to learn he was the cause of your conception issues. Although I imagine it would be far more devastating to learn of his inadequacies while at the same time learning of your betrayal. Even moreso…" She pulled yet another photograph and a doctored medical record from her purse. "To learn that the baby wasn't his."

Genevieve handed her the photograph, of Martha and Lionel, and the medical record which claimed Lionel had fathered the child. Martha drew in a sharp intake of breath, unable to grasp such blatant manipulation. She could barely look at her new adversary.

"How on earth…"

"It's amazing what a little photoshopping and forgery can achieve, wouldn't you say?" Genevieve grinned, pleased with herself.

Martha shook her head fervently and returned the documents to her. "Jonathan would never believe this. He trusts me."

"You'd be surprised, Martha, at what a tiny sliver of doubt can do to even the most trusting of husbands."

Martha stood in fierce opposition. "You really think you can blackmail me into following your orders? You would stoop this low?"

Genevieve then stood to match her fervor. "I think you'll find there's very little I wouldn't do to ensure my needs are met. I have no limitations, moral or literal, and if this conversation isn't enough to persuade you, please understand, I will reach higher and go further until you reach breaking point. And I have absolutely no qualms playing god." They locked eyes, hatred flowing between them freely. Then Genevieve's determined, take-no-prisoners demeanor broke into a charming smile and change of attitude. "I hear Lionel's going to be in town tomorrow. I suggest you make it a point to drop by."

With that, she grabbed her bag and after flashing one last smile at Martha, quickly slipped out of the office. Stunned, Martha fell back down into her chair, utterly astonished.

TBC.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

Martha Kent took her time coming home from work that night. She took the scenic route, purposely missing two or three turns, and breaking early when the light was yellow. She pulled into the farm, and slowly walked up to the front door, dragging her feet. She entered through the front door, not the back, hoping to avoid contact with her husband and her son. With the coast presumably clear, she made a quickly scurried up the stairs, only to collide into Clark, who was on his way down.

"Mom!" Clark exclaimed, with relief. "Where have you been? We thought you were off at five, it's almost seven."

"Oh, sweetie, I just…had to pick up a few things at the store," Martha lied, unconvincingly.

Clark frowned skeptically. "Where are they?"

"What?"

"The things you picked up at the store."

Martha sheepishly glanced down at her own empty hands. "Uh…"

"Mom, is everything all right?"

She flashed him an impossibly genuine smile. "Everything's fine."

Twenty minutes later, the Kents sat down to dinner. Martha ate silently, only picking at her food while Clark and Jonathan exchanged wary glances. No matter how persisently they probed and questioned her, she would merely nod or shrug, insisting she was just tired and worn out. Later, Jonathan offered to help her do the dishes, but she refused, saying she could get it done faster on her own. She watched through the kitchen window as Clark headed out to his loft in the barn and noted to herself that this was one time she wished she had her own fortress of solitude.

She retired to bed early, lying in bed staring blankly at the pages of an old Charlotte Bronte novel until Jonathan joined her a little after eleven. He stripped down to his boxers, threw on an old t-shirt, and climbed into bed beside her. He had spoken her name twice before she heard him, only after he gently pulled the book out of her hands.

"Talk to me."

"I'm fine, Jonathan," Martha replied, almost exasperated.

"Sweetheart, you're not fine." He was endlessly patient. Martha considered it his best and worst quality.

She sighed and looked over at him vulnerably, relenting. "I'm sorry. I just…even if I wanted to talk about it, I couldn't. I don't know how."

At this, he became especially worried. There had never been anything she couldn't tell him. Nothing he knew of anyway. She turned toward him suddenly and inched closer. "Do you trust me?"

A bit taken aback that the question would even need to be posed, Jonathan scoffed and smiled. "Of course I trust you."

"No matter what? Despite the most…convincing argument made against me, you would believe me."

"Do you think we would have survived twenty-four years of marriage if I didn't trust you?" Jonathan replied.

She nodded, but appeared to remain unconvinced. To rectify that, he kissed her gently, wrapping a strong arm around her waist. Needing that steadfast strength, that comfort, she leaned in for more, holding onto him tightly. Sensing her urgency, he moved on top of her and continued his ministrations. He knew this was her alternative to talking to him, but when he looked into her eyes and saw them brimming with tears, he couldn't refuse her. He sat up and pulled his t-shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it onto the floor, then leaned down to cover her lips with his. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, almost desperate with need.

Nearly an hour later, when they fell back onto the bed, sated and exhausted, Jonathan smiled and turned to her, expecting all traces of whatever had been emotionally ailing her to be gone. Instead, the tears that had only been brimming when they began had started to flow freely down her cheeks. He frowned, this time entirely baffled.

"Sweetheart, what is it?!"

She covered her mouth and shook her head, then swiftly crawled out of bed and ran to the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind her. Jonathan followed in quick succession, knocking on the door and calling her name to no avail. After several minutes, he sighed, pulled his clothes back on, and headed downstairs. To his surprise, he was not the only one awake. He found Clark in the living room, curled up on the couch with the television on.

"Hey, son," Jonathan greeted him. "What are you doing up? Couldn't sleep?"

Clark glanced back at him lethargically and shrugged. "It was kind of pointless to try. What with there only being a linen closet between your room and mine," Clark replied, accusatorily. "You guys aren't exactly discreet."

Jonathan sighed and sat beside him on the couch. "I guess we just like to tell ourselves these walls are soundproof."

"Yeah, it's okay, that's why God created Nick at Night. I get to catch up on my _Who's the Boss_, it all works out," Clark said, with a faint laugh. "What are you doing down here anyway?"

Jonathan shook his head, still wrapping his head around what had just happened. "Your mother locked herself in the bathroom."

"What? What did you _do_?"

"Nothing," Jonathan insisted. "I don't think. I don't know. You saw how she was acting earlier. And she won't tell me what's wrong. She just took off crying and locked herself in the bathroom without a word."

"That's not like her," Clark observed. "Well, at least I don't think it's like her. I'm not usually around after you guys…"

"No, it's not exactly a regular occurrence, Clark."

"So, what do you think is going on?" He questioned.

"I don't know, son," Jonathan answered, distractedly. "I don't know."

TBC.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter Three**_

If someone had asked him, Lionel Luthor would be unable to accurately describe his relationship with Martha Kent. This, in fact, may have been because he could barely discern the difference between their actual relationship and the relationship he had created for them in his mind. Years, he had been in love with her. Years that to another man would have felt unnecessary and pointless; after all, wasn't it useless to spend years pining after a woman who was so patently uninterested in you? That was the mindset of a lesser man, as far as Lionel was concerned.

He had fallen in love with her when he had only a memory of her appearance. He was unable to see her, but could only vaguely recall the image of her that had been stored in his mind since the meteor shower. Kind Martha Kent, generous Martha Kent, caring Martha Kent. Even when he had only just met her, he silently hoped that Jonathan Kent knew just how lucky he was. The day she sat beside him in the garden and began reading the latest headline on the front page of _The Daily Planet_, without being asked, a little piece of him fell in love with her. She wasn't intimidated by him, as most were. Despite her husband's well-known ill will toward him, Martha had never shown him anything but kindness from the moment they had met. It was impossible to know what she _really _thought of him, but she had never appeared anything less than respectful.

As his assistant, Martha had always put her personal feelings aside to cater to his best interests – not necessarily to the things he _wanted_, but what she believed he needed. He loved the way she held his hand to guide him as they walked, he loved the way she had reached for him instinctively when they had been tossed from the helicopter that first day together, he loved the way she always touched his shoulder on her way out of the room. He knew she meant it as nothing more than a friendly gesture, a little reminder that she was looking out for him, that he meant something to her, if only professionally. Another little piece of him fell in love with her each time.

The remarkable thing about Martha Kent was her ability to match him, punch for punch, with her keen instincts and business savvy. Lionel couldn't remember the last time he had considered someone an equal, intellectually and otherwise. She challenged him in ways no one ever had, ever dared to. The day she fought back to save the caves, his practical, goal-oriented side had been more than inclined to fire her. But he was entranced, consistently drawn to her ability to make him see truths that had always seemed hidden. Soon all the pieces came together and he found himself wholly and wildly in love with this extraordinary, very unavailable woman.

And she was unavailable in the worst way. She was married, they could get past that. But what was more, she was happily married. Very happily married. Lionel learned early on that there was nothing that could ever possibly erase her devotion to Jonathan, even in an alternate universe, he was her soul mate. Maybe so. But what, Lionel often wondered, if she was still his own soul mate? She could belong to someone else, but he could still belong to her, couldn't he?

Lionel had done everything to protect her that fateful day of the hostage situation at LuthorCorp, but she had still left. She wasn't put off by the ambitious hoodlums, she insisted, but rather he leaving had everything to do with her family. It was too much, and they came first. Lionel had at first been disappointed in her, sacrificing her own needs for those of her family, but soon came to realize that that was one of the things he loved about her most. She could be a smart, savvy, woman to be reckoned with and still be a selfless, devoted wife and mother. He had never known anyone like her. He had never wanted to before.

Their relationship had deteriorated over the years, as she learned more and more about him that troubled her. She kept her distance from him, disappointed that he could not maintain any semblance of humanity without her persistent influence, but he stayed as close to her, figuratively, as he could. Only a few months after leaving him, Lionel had learned that she was pregnant. He had his ways of knowing, though she thought she had done everything in her power to keep it a secret. He had been both pleased and dismayed by the news. He was pleased for her, he knew how desperately she wanted it and how much it meant to her, but a baby would almost certainly mean more distance between them. Not only that, but it was an inevitable reminder of the intimacy he tried to forget existed between Martha and her husband. He was also concerned for her health. She was no longer a young woman, though she may have looked it, and when he considered her prior reproductive mishaps, he couldn't help but worry. But knowing she was happy gave him a sense of pride and comfort somehow.

The miscarriage had devastated him, as he imagined the pain it must have caused her. He was almost grateful they no longer saw each other; he wasn't sure he could handle seeing her in any kind of pain, especially with Clark gone and the farm in serious danger. Since then, he had quietly kept tabs on her. If she was in the hospital, he knew about it. If her finances were in trouble, he knew. If she ever needed him, he would never forgive himself for not being there. Both fortunately and unfortunately, she never had. In that year after she had stopped working for him, he had often imagined what he would say to her if and when they crossed paths again. When they finally did, with her son in the hallway of the home she shared with another man, all traces of his imagined speech fled. He had gone ahead and insulted her husband without meaning to and though he regretted it, Lionel got a little thrill when she looked him square in the eye, with unflinching sincerity and assurance, and defended him. There was the Martha he so fiercely loved and admired. He missed more than just her sage advice.

He could not have predicted at the time that almost precisely a year later, he would find her stripped of all assurance and sincerity, desperate and afraid, unwittingly woven into a web of murderous deceit she had never known before. When he got the call informing him that Martha Kent was downstairs and wished to see him, he had to paused and ask the information to be repeated. Until now, this had only happened in his imagination, or when determined, clever girls like Lois Lane discovered his weakness and used her name to get to him.

"Send her up," Lionel demanded, as he noticed his hands begin to shake ever so slightly at the anticipation of seeing her again. Alone, in his office. It had been so long.

He immediately looked up when he heard her enter the room, his heart stopping at the mere sight of her. Her hair had grown and was lighter than it had been when last he saw her. Nothing else had changed. Not a single line aged her face. She did, however, appear more anxious than he remembered her.

"Martha," he breathed, unable to achieve his usual composure in her presence. "This is a surprise."

"No kidding," Martha whispered under her breath as she nervously approached him.

"To what do I owe this impromptu visit?" He smiled confidently, to create the false image that his lips weren't trembling and his palms weren't sweaty. He gestured for her to sit down, and when she did, he sat adjacent from her.

"Something…a matter…has been…has…" Martha hesitated, as if completely out of her element. "Come to my attention."

They locked eyes for a moment, his eyes searching hers for the answers she herself would not give him. She blinked rapidly and then looked away, digging into her purse. She pulled out a photograph, the same one that Genevieve Teague had given her, depicting the crystal in question. He handed it to him. Lionel frowned upon seeing it, then looked up at her with confusion.

"Where did you get this?"

"Does it matter?" Martha questioned, her eyes refusing to meet his again.

"Yes, Martha," Lionel replied, as calmly and kindly as the situation would allow him to be. "It matters."

Martha sighed, weighing the options in her head. Genevieve had not specified that she was not to tell him the true conditions of their agreement, or rather, her blackmail, but Martha assumed it went without saying.

"The crystal belongs to someone else, Lionel," Martha stated, after a moment, wringing her hands nervously. "I think you…you know who. And I…"

Lionel leaned forward, filled with both concern for her and general confusion. "Martha, listen to me. You need to tell me who gave you this. You could be in very grave danger, do you understand?"

Martha bit her lip and closed her eyes briefly to ensure that none of the tears threatening her ever fell. When she felt the threat had passed, she looked at him intently. "If you care about me…in any way, at all, you'll…return the crystal. To her."

Her. Genevieve. He should have known. He reached out and took Martha's hand with a sense of urgency that took her by surprise. "What did she say to you?"

She pulled her hand away and folded her arms across her chest uncomfortably. "Who?"

"Martha, please," Lionel said, desperately. "Let me help you. Believe me, you don't want to become involved in the intricate web of Genevieve Teague. Tell me what she's done. Please."

Martha sighed, blinking back tears. She wasn't sure who to trust anymore. And she had no idea who she was dealing with.

TBC.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter Four**_

Lionel couldn't let Martha leave unprotected.

He knew something was incredibly wrong, and he had no doubts about who was behind it. The second she left his office, he put a phone call through to his security detail and assigned someone to keep a close watch on her. He received updates every half an hour. She went to work, stopped at the bank, went into the grocery store, and pulledi nto the drivethrough at Starbucks – her secret guilty pleasure, which Lionel had discovered during her time as his assistant, and not even Jonathan knew about. Lionel smiled to himself as he imagined her quickly discarding the empty coffee cup and tossing an Altoid in her mouth to keep her husband from tasting it on her. He had no idea why she insisted upon keeping it a secret, but her little Starbucks addiction, like so many other things, only endeared her to him more.

By six o'clock, Lionel had received the report that she was home. Clark was there too, Jonathan was not. Somewhat satisfied, Lionel told the remarkably discreet security officer to leave her alone for the night, convinced that there was very little chance Martha would leave the farm until morning.

Martha found Clark in his fortress of solitude, doing homework, she hoped. He flashed her a winning smile when he noticed her coming up the stairs, weary and anxious as ever.

"Hey, Mom." He stood. "Everything okay?"

"Clark, I need to tell you something." She sat down on the couch, and he followed suit.

Clark watched skeptically as she reached into her bag and pulled out the photograph of the crystal. "Where did you get this?" He questioned with mild alarm.

"Jason's mother," she replied. "Genevieve Teague."

Clark frowned in confusion. "Why? What does she want from you?"

Martha sighed. "She's under the impression that I have some kind of powerful influence over Lionel Luthor, and she wants me to convince him to give the crystal to her."

Clark looked on incredulously. "Or what?"

She hesitated, pursing her lips. "Or she's going to blackmail me."

"About what? About me?" Clark's eyes widened in both anger and fear. "Mom, does Genevieve Teague know my secret?"

"No, no, no." Martha shook her head. "It's not that."

"Then what?"

She sighed, reluctantly. "Years ago, when your father and I learned we couldn't…conceive. I got the phone call from the doctor telling me your dad….was sterile. But I decided to…"

"Tell him it was you," Clark finished.

"Yes." Her eyes searched his, trying to gauge his reaction. "She also…doctored some papers."

"What papers?"

"Papers that…name Lionel as the baby's father. The baby I lost two years ago."

What?!" Clark exclaimed, rising to his feet.

"They're doctored, Clark. Forged. But she's threatening to show them to your dad if I don't do what she asks. And you know how insecure he's always been about Lionel. Whether it's true or not, just raising the question will kill him."

"I can't believe this," Clark breathed, pacing both and forth.

"Clark, there's more." He turned to her expectantly. "Genevieve Teague…is a woman without a conscience. She's ruthless, she'll stop at nothing to get what she wants. She made that very clear to me when we met." Martha paused. "I think our lives may be in danger."

Clark sighed, overwhelmed by the revelations that had juts been thrown at him in the past few minutes. He returned to his place beside her on the couch. Martha reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"I'm sorry to bring you into this."

Clark shook his head, deeming the apology unnecessary. "This is why you were acting so strange last night."

Martha nodded. "Yes. And Clark, you cannot tell your father."

"But…" He protested.

"Clark. You can't tell him, do you understand me?"

"Yeah."

"Thank you."

They sat together for a few minutes, ruminating upon the situation at hand. It wasn't until Jonathan's voice echoed through the barn that they were thrust back into reality.

Jonathan smiled as he walked up the stairs to greet them. "What is this, a little Kent family cabal?"

"Uh," Clark stumbled over his words. "Mom was just…helping me with my history."

Jonathan glanced down at the book on the table. "That's a Calculus book, son."

Jumping to the rescue, Martha stood and wrapped her arms around her husband's neck, dropping several light kisses on his lips.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to distract me, Martha Kent."

Martha grinned up at him, one eyebrow raised seductively. "Is it working?" She planted another kiss on his lips, this time for much longer.

"Uh…yeah, I'd say so."

Martha giggled and took his hand, leading him down the stairs. "You might want to start dinner, Clark…"

Jonathan chuckled as he willingly followed her. "What, are you going to take me out behind the barn and have your wicked way with me?"

"That, Jonathan Kent, is precisely what I'm going to do."

Clark laughed and shook his head. As much as it made him uncomfortable to ese his parents act this way, he was routinely thankful for the love and intimacy his parents shared between them. He grabbed his Calculus book and headed inside to start dinner, as the news of what his mother had just told him lingered in his mind.

TBC.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for all the reviews, guys. Keep 'em coming because it keeps me writing! :)

_**Chapter Five**_

They had gone out behind the barn, as promised, and Martha had certainly had her wicked way with him. As it had been the night before, sex was the ultimate distraction, both for him and for her. Last night, it has been slow, gentle, almost soothing, as Jonathan did everything in his power to calm and comfort her. Behind the barn, it had been different. He had taken her standing up against the wall, with most of their clothes still on, far from view. She had wanted to thrill him to the point where he could no longer remember that a secret was being kept from him, and he, like before, had wanted to keep her mind off whatever it was that had been changing her recently. The sounds of their union were hushed, her screams of ecstasy muffled against his shoulder and his exclamations of love whispered in her ear repeatedly.

They were a traditional couple, and often preferred to confine their trysts to behind closed doors, or in the truck parked far from the prying eyes of tasteless Smallville gossip hounds. The last time they had been so adventurous was shortly after Bart's departure, when she had promised her sweaty farmer a good time with the hose and a bucket of soap. This, too, was an extraordinary circumstance.

After they had finished, at the same time no less, they took their time collecting themselves, wanting desperately to stay in the moment. Martha ran her fingers through her hair, trying to reduce the appearance that she had just engaged in wild, wanton sex with her husband behind the barn. Jonathan's arms encircled her waist and and pulled her against him. He kissed her neck and her shoulder gently as he held her, and she smiled into his chest, relaxed and content in his embrace.

"Excuse the interruption."

They quickly broke apart, and Martha's heart immediately began beating rapidly at the sound of the decidedly British female voice. Jonathan looked at his wife quizzically, not recognizing the impeccably dressed woman standing before them. She was clearly out of place.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've been introduced." Genevieve stepped forward and held her hand out to Jonathan, who shot a skeptical glance back at Martha before closing the gap between them and accepting it. "I'm Genevieve Teague."

He nodded. "Jonathan Kent."

Genevieve smiled cordially. "Firm grip, Mr. Kent."

At that, he swiftly pulled his hand from her grasp. Genevieve turned to Martha.

"Do you think we might speak privately for a moment?"

Jonathan looked at Martha for approval; she nodded reluctantly. He leaned forward, kissed her lightly on the lips, then slowly walked away, instantly distrustful of this woman. Now alone, Martha waited for her next ultimatum. Instead, Genevieve gaze fell to the ground beside her opponent's feet and she smiled a bit mischievously. Martha frowned, then glanced down. Her eyes widening, she quickly reached down and grapped her underwear, stuffing them into her pocket, embarassed.

"What do you want?" Martha questioned, seething with disdain.

Genevieve appeared unperturbed. "I came for an update on your progress with Lionel. I have yet to hold the crystal in my hands, so I assume your first meeting fell a bit short of a success."

"First and last."

"Now, Martha, let's not be hasty. There's a lot at stake."

Martha stepped forward, feeling the pieces of her former predatory self fall back into place. "I will not be blackmailed."

"Oh, I don't think of it as blackmail, Martha." She shrugged, nonchalantly. "I think of it more as…incentive."

"Call it what you want, it is _blackmail_."

A sly smile crept across Genevieve's face and Martha felt a chill run up and down her spine. "If you're telling me what I think you're telling me…well, quite frankly, I'm disappointed in you, Martha. Looking around, I would think this is a life you would like to keep. One phone call to the bank and I can quite easily dissolve all of your loan agreements. One phone call and all of this…" She gestured to the vast land surrounding them. "Could be gone."

Martha shook her head in disbelief. "You have made quite a number of threats to me in the last few days, Genevieve, and I have yet to see you act on a single one."

Genevieve frowned, and her eyes seemed to become darker. "I was giving you an opportunity to prove yourself. Please believe me when I tell you, Martha, I am nothing if not a woman of my word. And I promise you, it would take very little effort on my part to ensure that these little…trysts out behind the barn are not much longer."

With that, Genevieve turned on her heel and gracefully walked away, leaving Martha shaken and afraid.

When Martha arrived at the Talon, she could hardly remember how she got there. Following Genevieve's departure, Martha had gone straight to the car and started driving without so much as a word of her whereabouts to Clark and Jonathan. She had driven for what felt like hours, so long that the Talon was closed by the time she made it there. Using her key, she entered the shop and immediately headed up the stairs to the apartment above. She knocked on the door repeatedly, with urgency.

Lois finally answered the door, appearing shocked and surprised. "Mrs. Kent. What are you doing here?"

Martha hesitated, biting her lip nervously. "I don't know. Could I just…"

Lois stepped back to allow her entry. "Come in, come in."

She walked over the threshold and stood before her young but loyal friend. They locked eyes for a moment, Martha's filled with tears, Lois's concerned and inquisitive. Suddenly, Martha threw her arms around Lois's neck. Lois, still worried and confused, welcomed the embrace and gave Martha her shoulder to cry on.

"I thought I was stronger than this, Lois. I thouht I could take it."

Lois didn't ask why. She didn't ask questions. When they broke away, she smiled reassuringly, closed the door, and offered some tea. She had never felt so maternal before in her life. And towards someone she had started to turn to as her own surrogate mother. When Jonathan Kent called and asked if she had seen his wife, Lois sighed and told him everything would be all right.

TBC.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter Six**_

"She's not there."

Lionel's heart stopped at the words.

"What do you mean, she's not there? It's dawn. Where could she be?" He practically shouted into the telephone.

"I'm trying to find that out now, sir," the agent replied, stoically. "I'll report back the minute I find her."

Lionel growled with dissatiscation and hung up without a word of goodbye. He leaned back in his chair, looking on pensively.

At five-thirty, Jonathan rolled over, awaking instantly when his arm fell upon the cold sheets rather than a warm body. He propped himself up and gazed over at the empty side of the bed, forlorn. She still hadn't come home. He willed himself out of bed, jumped into the shower, and got dressed. Before making his way out to the barn, he grabbed the mini-notepad from Martha's bedside table, scribbled down a few words, and left it on her pillow, for whenever she might return.

His message was simple.

"I love you. And I'm here, always."

Sometime after six, Lionel received a call from his trusty security officer informing him that he had found Martha Kent, at the Talon. He ordered a car without pause, and told the driver to take the fastest way he knew to get there.

When Lionel arrived, Martha and Lois were slowly waking from their respective slumbers. Lois made coffee while Martha took a shower. Martha had told her nothing the night before, and Lois hadn't made it an issue. She was just grateful that someone valued her enough to seek out comfort from her. As she poured them each a strong cup of coffee, she could faintly hear the sound of someone knocking on the front door of the shop downstairs. Her interest piqued, she put on her slippers and ran downstairs.

"Sorry, buddy, we don't open until nine on Sundays, so…"

Lois stopped short when she saw that it was none other than Lionel Luthor at the door. She frowned, and opened the door out of sheer curiosity. "Mr. Luthor."

Lionel nodded. "Ms. Lane."

"What…I mean, what are you…doing here?" She questioned, entirely dumbfounded.

"I'm looking for Martha Kent. I know she's here."

Lois furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "You…know she's here? How do _you_ know she's here?

"Just let me in, Lois, please."

Lois placed on hand on her hip, in an atttempt to create an aura of intimidation, which of course fell flat before the master of intimidation himself. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"Please believe me when I tell you, it is in Mrs. Kent's best interest that I see her right now," Lionel insisted.

She sighed. "Look, why don't you just wait outside for a minute, and I'll go tell Mrs. Kent you're here. If she wants to see you, she'll come down."

Lois tried to close the door with him on the other side, but Lionel was persistent and pushed past her. "Hey!" She exclaimed, as Lionel powerwalked past her, up the stairs like a man on a mission. She ran after him. "Mr. Luthor!"

Lionel reached the closed door the apartment at the top of the stairs, which to his surprise, was opened instantly by the object of his search. Even more to his surprise was her ensemble – she stood in the doorway in a scant thigh-length bathrobe with nothing underneath. She held a towel in her hand, which she had been using to dry her hair. When Lois finally caught up to him, Lionel's eyes were wide, both with desire and embarassment. Martha was perhaps even more embarassed. She folded her arms across her chest self-consciously, still holding the towel.

"I'm…I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" Lionel trailed off, his eyes never leaving her figure. "I was…worried when you didn't go home last night, and when you still hadn't showed up by morning, I…"

"Have you been following me?" Martha demanded, angrily.

"No, no, not me personally. I've been _having_ you followed." Lionel shook his head, almost to himself. "I don't know if that's any better."

"This is unbelievable," she said under her breath, looking away from him.

"Martha, I was worried about you. After you came to see me, I knew…I knew something very gravely wrong, and I just…wanted to ensure your safety, that's all."

She pursed her lips and placed her hands on her hips in opposition, and all Lionel could think about from that point on was how badly he wanted to kiss her.

"Lionel, I'm _fine_," Martha declared firmly. "Of course, I'd be better if you would reconsider your possession of the crystal."

"I can't do that, but I…"

"Wait." She held up her hand, stopping him. "Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I'll come downstairs."

Lionel nodded, accepting these terms. He glanced sheepishly at Lois, who was still flushed and perturbed, before traveling back down the stairs. Martha turned back into the apartment, and Lois followed her, now with interest.

"Okay, I was cool letting this go last night, but I gotta say, Mrs. Kent, you've got me intrigued, so spill."

"I can't talk to you about this, Lois. Trust me," Martha replied, walking back into the bathroom. Lois was hot on her tail.

"Oh, come on. You showed up here in the middle of the night in tears, and you've got Lionel Luthor coming to call for you practically before the rest of the town lifts an eyelid. What gives?"

Martha whirled around and looked Lois in the eye intently. "Lois, listen to me. The more you know, the more danger you're in. Please. Don't ask me anymore questions and, more importantly, do _not_ do your own digging and try to uncover the answers yourself. _Please_."

Lois nodded, but Martha was still unsatisfied. "Promise me, Lois."

"I promise."

Martha touched her shoulder warmly and barely smiled before turning into the bathroom and closing the door, leaving Lois alone on the other side.

"Martha, please," Lionel pleaded. "Tell me what she's done."

Martha shook her head and crossed her legs. They were sitting across from each other at a table in the Talon, surrounded by empty chairs and tables. She had borrowed a skirt and a Calvin Klein tank top from Lois, covered by a short, trendy jacket. Her hair fell easily around her shoulders, causing Lionel to believe he had never seen anyone appear so effortlessly beautiful.

"I don't think so," Martha replied. "How do I know I can trust you?"

Lionel leaned forward. "Who are you going to trust, the woman who's blackmailing you and threatening your life, or the man who has gone far out of his way to help you?"

Martha squinted her eyes, glaring at him skeptically. "How do I know you're not just grilling me for information, to trap Genevieve Teague in your own little game of cat and mouse? I don't want to be your little go-between, a sacrificial pawn."

He sighed, and leaned back once more. "Martha Kent, if you don't know by now how I feel about you…"

"I've hardly seen you at all in two years!" Martha exclaimed in response, surprised at her own fervor.

"Even so. You must know that I would never, ever put you in harm's way."

"Unless I suddenly get in the way of your own personal gain."

"Martha, no," Lionel insisted, genuinely. "Never."

She locked eyes with him then, and saw that he was sincere. Suddenly she was plagued with the memory of that awful day at LuthorCorp. She had been catapulted into a state of fear the moment the weapons had been brandished, instantly driven into his arms as her only source of comfort. She had clung to him desperately – of all the men in the room, she trusted Lionel the most – and he had held her tightly, stroking her hair. If it hadn't been for the explicit danger of the situation, she would have noticed the tenderness with which he held and comforted her. Remembering now made Martha feel instantly uncomfortable.

Yes, she knew how he felt about her.

"I only want to help you, Martha," Lionel said then, to fill the silence. "You cannot begin to understand the damage Genevieve Teague has been known to incur with a mere glance. She is devastatingly powerful, and she has no boundaries or limitations. If you're tangled up with her, it's going to take an equal amount of power to free you from her web. Let me help you."

Martha turned her gaze away from his, and looked at her shoes for what felt like several minutes to both of them. When at last her attention returned to him, the piercing connection her eyes made with his startled him.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He repeated, abruptly feeling disoriented.

"Yes."

He nodded slowly. He was truthfully very surprised she had agreed so easily. He had expected much more of a challenge.

"All right, well…" He sighed, meeting her now steadfast and somewhat confident gaze. "Tell me everything."

Jonathan heard the car door slam from inside the barn and immediately dropped what he was doing and jogged outside. The sound had not come from Martha's sedan as he had hoped, but from a sleek, black limosine. He frowned, his first thought being that this was somehow related to the Luthors. He shoved his hands into his pockets and slowly approached the limo, stopping short when the door opened a long, shapely leg stepped out and a high heel-clad foot hit the dirt driveway.

When the figure fully exited the car, Jonathan held back a little, recognizing the woman as Genevieve Teague, whom he had met for the first time only twenty hours earlier. He regarded her uneasily and kept his distance. She lifted her hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she looked toward him.

"Mr. Kent!" Genevieve called out, congenially enough.

"Ms. Teague," Jonathan replied, emotionless.

It was then that he noticed what she held in her hand – a large manila envelope.

"I see Martha has yet to return, hmm?" She said, approaching him.

"How did you know she was gone?" He questioned, skeptically.

"I think, Mr. Kent, you'll be hard-pressed to find something I _don't_ know," Genevieve answered, coolly. "Which is precisely why I'm here." She held up the manila envelope. "I was hoping we could speak privately for a moment. There are a few things I'd like to share with you."

Jonathan sighed reluctantly and led the way into the house. Genevieve followed, a sly smile forming on her lips.

TBC.


End file.
